


ursa minor

by sphesphe



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Animal Transformation, Bears, Boston Bruins, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9375368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sphesphe/pseuds/sphesphe
Summary: There's a secret den underneath TD Garden.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *facepalm* I wrote most of this in early 2015, when Pasta was new and Dougie and Looch were still ours... SIGH. Oh well. Here, have some completely fluffy dumb nonsense.

When David gets called up to Boston for what seems like might be for REAL, he is elated as fuck. Then he thinks about leaving Malcolm and all his buddies in Providence and frowns. Then he thinks about getting to play more with David Krejci and Chara and Bergeron and gets so excited that he does a little fistpump without actually meaning to

It’s all a frenzied whirl of activity, packing and making calls and being reminded only a thousand times by his mom not to forget or lose important things such as keys and visas. In the midst of the chaos, Malcolm stops by and, in between hugs and congratulations, says something rather strange.

He takes David by the shoulders, looks seriously into his eyes and says, “So, uh, I just wanted to give you kind of a heads up. Not, like, a warning, because I don’t think it’s _bad_ , just... PK told me a little bit about it even though he’s not really supposed to, right?” Malcolm takes a deep breath, then continues, “He said that some _weird stuff_ happens in the big leagues. And you should try not to get too freaked out about it.”

David cocks his head to the side, blank. “Weird? I play with Bruins a few games, it’s not so weird, except maybe Marchy.” He thinks about it. “He is a lot weird.”

Malcolm makes a face. “Well, I don’t know exactly. PK said... but I’m not sure if he was just messing with me. I’m just saying, don’t be totally surprised if there are some... out of the ordinary things. Like, prepare yourself mentally for _anything_. You know?”

David nods, but he doesn’t. He has no idea what Malcolm is trying to say. Maybe he’s missing something because of his English? But, then he asks if Malcolm can help him look for his passport, and by the time they tear through the entire apartment amd finally locate it in a drawer underneath a pile of Xbox game cases, he has more or less forgotten all about it.

 

Playing on a line with David Krejci is **AMAZING.**

David feels like he’s maybe spending a lot of time grinning moonily at people, but it’s fine because he can’t actually stop. He’s learning so much from Krech, and it’s so weird and awesome to look over and see his idol centering his line. Looch makes fun of David’s baby face a lot but also wraps him in a crushing bear hug when David gets his first NHL goal and then his _second_ in the same game.

David’s still getting to know everyone: Zdeno is almost intimidatingly smart and seems to know a little about any possible topic. Bergy is full of helpful advice about everything from backchecking to life in Boston. Kells pretends to be grumpy but he’s actually hilarious. Marchy says a lot of things that David doesn’t always fully understand but he’s funny to be around, always talking and ready to engage in a race or competition or joke. Dougie smiles just as much as David does, and there’s an ocean of silliness beneath his shy exterior.

Basically, everything is great, and January flies by in a string of _really fun_ wins.

Then they face the Canadiens, and though David gets a goal and they fight hard, they can _not_ get the puck past Price. Just like that, Montreal completes a season sweep and the momentum they’ve been building is snapped.

So maybe David doesn’t have that much reason to have a personal stake in the Bruins-Habs rivalry. It still _feels_ like he does. And right now, that _sucks_.

The atmosphere in the locker room afterwards isn’t so fun, especially once the press clears out. David catches Dougie’s eye, and Dougie gives him a little shrug and a humorless half-smile, half-grimace. He must be really beating himself up over the collision with Z that led to Pacioretty’s goal in the third. David wants to say something, try to help somehow, but the right English words won’t come to his tongue.

Then Z motions Dougie off to the side, and they speak quietly in the corner for a bit before... disappearing down a doorway that David somehow hadn’t even _noticed_ until right now. In the brief glimpse he gets inside, it looks like... a janitor’s closet?

David stares, baffled at how he hadn’t ever _seen_ it before. Now that he’s looking at it, it’s totally obvious.

That’s weird.

And then Dougie and Z... don’t come back out.

And _then,_ Bergy heads down that same mystery door. Followed by Piesy and Soupy and Loui, then _all of David’s teammates_. He looks around, baffled, as every single person leaving heads that way without a word, instead of going out the actual exit.

There is no way they all fit in a janitor’s closet, unless they are getting very uncomfortably squashed together.

THIS IS A MYSTERY.

Looch at least stops by on his way towards the Door and ruffles David’s hair. “Hey, Pasta. Krech will tell you what’s going on, okay? Don’t worry about it, kid.”

“Okay?” David says, bewildered, and watches as Looch enters the Mystery Closet. Which is bafflingly not full of Bruins, but instead empty.

Then it’s just him and Krech left. Krech smiles reassuringly at him.

“Oh!” David exclaims, suddenly remembering Malcolm’s odd speech from before. “Is this the weird stuff that Malcolm warned me about?” he wonders out loud, gratefully switching to Czech.

“Malcolm told you?” Krech says, a bit sharply.

“Not exactly. He said something about weird stuff happening in the NHL? PK told him about it, but he wasn’t sure about the details, so that’s all he said to me.”

Krech sits back, relaxing. “Ah, okay. Well, let me explain what’s going on. Try to, anyway. Usually Z does the talk.” He takes a deep breath, then leans forward intently. “So, it’s like this. Sometimes, when a lot of people believe very, very hard in something for a long time, and give a lot of their love and faith and stuff like that. All of that gets concentrated around one place and one idea, and it can create a bit of, ah... you know.” He clears his throat. “Magic.”

David blinks. “Magic.”

“Yes. Just a very little bit. The Bruins are an Original Six team, of course, and the fans have given a _lot_ of belief to this place and this team. Even though this isn’t the original Garden, it sinks into the land, so we end up being the focus of it all. You know?”

“I don’t really... know?” David says, trying to understand.

“It has different effects for different teams,” Krech continues doggedly. “It’s strongest here, though we can do it elsewhere, it’s just harder. Anyway, if you think about it, we’re lucky. Just think of what the Ducks have to deal with. Or God forbid, the Leafs.”

“What? Where do the _Ducks_ come in?” David says, now _completely_ confused.

Krech looks up at the ceiling, then back at David, then huffs a little laugh. “What I’m trying to say is... Magic exists, and sometimes because of that... we all turn into bears.”

 

David does NOT freak out.

“Please, don’t tell me this is a really complicated prank. Is it?” he asks. But he already has a feeling that it’s not.

“No,” Krech confirms with a wry smile.

“ _Really_ bears?”

Krech shrugs. “Of course. What else?”

Then David starts to actually think about it. “What _kind_ of bears?” he asks, picturing Z as a very tall, rangy grizzly and Bergy as some kind of ruggedly beautiful bear supermodel and Torey and Marchy as compact little black bears who are EXACTLY THE SAME HEIGHT. Then he notices Krech laughing at him. “What?”

“You were staring into space with your mouth hanging open,” Krech says kindly. “I don’t think it’s a specific species of bear. It’s more like what people _think_ a bear should look like. Big, furry, dark brown.”

David has an alarming, beautiful thought. “Wait. Are you saying... the Ducks can... but then, the Penguins!”

“I haven’t seen it personally. From what I’ve heard around the league: yes, it’s exactly how you imagine.”

HOLY SHIT. “What about the, the _Oilers_?” David demands.

Krech makes a face. “Honestly, I didn’t want to ask Andrew. I think it’s best not to know.”

David shakes his head to clear all the semi-hysterical images forming in his brain. There are more important things to talk about. “Can I tell my mother about this? Wait, but what if it doesn’t work for some reason? I should probably try it first, right? So how do I do it? How does this _work?_ ”

“For now, once we go down into the den, it should happen quite naturally, especially with everyone else there. It’s kind of a tradition, you see, to all go and get our heads right after a loss like today. Team bonding. You’ll see what I mean.”

“Okay,” David says eagerly, the sting of the loss already being wiped away by this revelation. “Let’s go, I want to try! I am going to be the _best_ bear.”

“Youth,” Krech sighs, and motions him towards the Door.

It... looks like a janitor’s closet from the inside too. There’s a stained sink, and a yellow industrial bucket and mop in the corner. David shoots Krech a wounded look. Is this a joke after all?

Krech motions him to the side, smirking slightly, and then pries at a chipped floor tile. A whole piece of the floor comes up — revealing a ladder going down into a dim tunnel.

“We have a secret trap door? No one told me,” David exclaims, outraged that this has been here all this time and _no one told him._

“It’s a _secret_ trap door. Don’t go telling the reporters,” Krech says, eyeing him. “Well, go on then.”

David climbs down. At the bottom of the ladder, there’s an arched tunnel lined with bricks, weakly lit by a few fixtures on the wall. The air is warm, and there’s a musky animal odor, strong but strangely not unpleasant. David starts to feel a little... weird.

Krech comes down the ladder behind him. “You might want to take your clothes off here. When you can control it better, you can wait till you get to the den, but right now you might not be able to.”

David nods absently. There’s something he can almost hear, as if from a great distance — some kind of hum or melody, and he wants to listen.

“I’m going ahead,” Krech murmurs. “Just join us when you’re ready.” David barely notices, still distracted by that hum or call or whatever it is. He undresses, letting his game day clothes fall in an unfortunate pile, and follows the sound in his head.

As he moves down the tunnel, it gets clearer, purer, and it’s warm and welcoming, like a hot spring in winter. David’s listening so intently he doesn’t notice the precise moment when he falls to all fours, or when his vision and hearing change.

He _does_ notice when he an entirely new awareness blooms in his head — there’s a sharp new sense of every single presence, all of his team up ahead, along with dimmer shadows... other people, children and women and Coach and all the other people they’ve come in contact with today. It’s almost like seeing, but blurrier and more complex, layered. With a jolt, he realizes it’s his sense of _smell_.

David looks down. Dimly he makes out his own front paws, covered in dark fur and tipped with long, curved claws.

SICK.

Weirdly, he can _smell_ the fact that the tunnel opens out into a much larger space. His new senses also reveal to him the possibly more pertinent fact that this space is crammed FULL OF BEARS.

The den smells like twenty-odd large animals, but also like team and home and comfort and family.

It smells AWESOME.

It’s hard to see, but David easily locates the bear (!!!) his nose identifies as Krech and approaches. He gets a face full of fur and whuffs in astonishment. Krech makes a sound of bearish welcome and nuzzles agreeably back at David, batting gently at him with a big paw.

Overwhelmed by delight, David rears up on his back legs and pounces Krech into an enthusiastic bear hug. Krech barks a laugh and shoves a paw in his face. They tussle briefly as David feels out the rearrangement of his limbs, the new strength in his muscles. He’s too excited to stay still though, and once Krech lets him go, he goes to get acquainted with everyone else in this form.

There’s Looch, huge and solid, and he greets David with a heavy shoulder-bump that would have flattened him in human form. David bumps back enthusiastically. Then Looch surprises him by grabbing him and licking his face. It’s not weird though — it feels nice, friendly. He supposes that in bear form, physical affection is pretty much the only way to go.

The team has all gathered together in the middle of the room. There’s Piesy and Soupy, Quaider and Millsy and all three Swedes, all in a furry pile on and around each other, quietly communing. Bergy’s with Tuukka and Reilly off to one side — David inhales and senses Tuukka’s tired irritation, Bergy’s lingering disgust at the loss overlaid with determination and calm. There’s Kells, who growls and flashes his teeth when David prods at him, but David’s nose is like, _telepathic_ now; he can tell that Kells is just fucking with him, and he bares his own teeth in a wide grin back.

Then David gets bowled over by a pounce from behind. It’s Marchy, grinning and smug despite the smell of frustration dissipating off him. He headbutts David kind of hard, clambers up on David’s prone form, sits on him and roars in triumph.

Luckily, for a bear, he is not _that_ big. David snickers to himself and tries to flip Marchy over, with limited success. Marchy _is_ wily. At some point, David accidentally bumps into Torey, who snorts and headbutts back, getting pulled into the scuffle. They roll around play-biting and wrestling, and amusement gradually lightens the whole room.

Eventually tired out and panting, David extricates himself from the pile and looks around. He spots Dougie over by Z’s big, lanky form. Ah, D-man bonding. Still, neither objects when David wanders over. Dougie’s still upset over his performance in the game, but it seems to be fading under the onslaught of bearishness. Impulsively, David licks his face, then settles down and lays his head on Dougie’s shoulder.

Bear-Dougie is super fluffy and comfortable. David lets his eyes fall shut, breathes in safety and reassurance, and dozes off.

 

When he wakes up, he’s human again. Someone’s thrown a blanket over him, and also dumped his clothes in a sadly wrinkled pile on top. He has no idea what time it is, but he the feeling of general well-being and happiness with the world remains.

Dougie’s bare shoulder, still more or less propping up David’s head, shifts. “You awake there, Pasta?”

“Mmf,” David says, blinking away the dregs of sleep. “It’s not dream, right? Being bears?”

“No. Pretty crazy, huh? I didn’t know what to expect when I got drafted, but magical animal transformation was not one of the things I’d considered.”

“But, so cool!” David grins, looking down at his hands, picturing the claws he’d so recently rocked. _So cool._

Dougie laughs. “Yeah. It’s pretty sweet. Lucky I didn’t get drafted by the Ducks. Or a lot of other teams, really. Bears are awesome.”

“I’m gonna be bear like... every day,” David enthuses. “At home. Can tell mother, right?”

Dougie is far too amused by this. “Sure, parents and siblings and spouses get to be in on it. Every day, really?”

“Yes, for sure! Why you don’t?”

“Well, it’s fun, but so is being able to talk and having opposable thumbs,” Dougie says drily.

David scoffs. This is super awesome, and no one is going to stop him from taking full advantage of it.

 

His mom doesn’t believe him at first. David can’t really blame her for eyeing him with concern and asking if he’d hit his head without anyone noticing, did he fall down in the shower or something? In response, he listens hard, focuses on the hum that’s remained faintly there at the edge of his consciousness, and turns into a bear right in front of her.

Of course, he forgot to take his clothes off, and anyway he’s with his MOTHER, so he tears right through his shirt and a perfectly good pair of pants.

She inhales a sharp gasp, stands frozen for a long moment. Then she bursts out, “Oh, David, you ruined your clothes!”

David’s head droops, chastened. But, really??

His mother gathers herself together. She looks him up and down, hands on her hips. She doesn’t smell upset. Finally, a smile tugs at her lips. “Well, you are such a cute bear. And I’m glad you don’t have a concussion.”

He butts very gently against her side and she laughs. “Oh, God. It’s a good thing you weren’t drafted by the Ducks, isn’t it?” and kneels down to put her arms around his neck. She presses a kiss to his furry forehead. David rumbles happily and wonders if it’s possible to turn a spare closet into a bear den.

 

The Montreal loss heralds a whole streak of others, though, as the team takes off on a long road trip out west. David finds it helpful to go back to the hotel and sulk in bear form afterwards — there’s so much to smell and investigate, and it helps him forget and move on. Bears aren’t all that concerned with the past.

He’s really, really excited that both Ferlin and Malcolm get called up though. “Malcolm!” he beams, when the goalie appears at breakfast. “Malcolm, I find out what you talk about. You know, weird stuff in NHL? It’s awesome!” He makes a face intended to be conspiratorial that involves intense eyebrow movement.

Malcolm’s own eyebrows go way, way up. “Yeah?” He lowers his voice. “Is it... is it like, a bear thing? Are you a were-bear?”

“Yeah, we’re bear!” David says. “Wait, I thought you already know!”

“I wasn’t sure. See, after PK started playing for the Habs, he suddenly got really good at French and knew, like, a creepily suspicious amount of trivia about the history of Quebec. And then he told me about the thing with the magic. I figured, for the Bruins, it had to be some kind of bear thing.”

David grins. “Being bear is so fun! Later, I show you.”

But before later happens, Malcolm gets his very first NHL start against the Blues. The first period goes fine. In the second, the Blues get three goals in about five minutes. Malcolm gets pulled. They lose 5-1.

On top of that, Krech injures his knee, and it doesn’t sound good _at all_.

After the press scrum, Malcolm goes silent and drawn and disappears to go find his parents, who had come to see the game. David aches for him. It’s one thing to say _forget about it and move on to the next game_. It’s not so easy to do when your future’s on the line.

David gives him time. Eventually, after curfew has passed and Malcolm will have licked his wounds a little bit, David makes his way to Malcolm’s door and taps lightly. He’s not sure what he’s going to say, but he wants to try. Something — anything.

The door cracks open to reveal a guarded Tuukka. When he sees David he relaxes. “Oh, Pasta. We’re just hanging out. Talking.” So: goalie bonding. “You can join us if you want.”

Malcolm’s lying on the bed, propped up on several pillows to watch TV but clearly not focusing on the screen. “Hey,” he says dully.

David turns to Tuukka. “Maybe it’s good time to turn into bears?” he suggests. “Tradition after loss, right?”

Tuukka looks dubious. “Yes... But we’re pretty far from Boston, and Malcolm hasn’t done it before. I don’t think it’ll work.”

Malcolm’s shoulders manage to slump even further. Hastily, David says, “Maybe if we all try together?”

Tuukka narrows his eyes, then shrugs. “We can try. Malcolm, come on, let’s do this on the floor.”

“Why?” Malcolm asks sullenly, even as he levers himself off the bed.

Tuukka rolls his eyes. “To prevent the situation where three bears destroy a hotel bed frame and create many awkward questions. Take off your clothes if you want to keep them in one piece. Don’t make that face, pretend it’s the locker room.” He explains how to focus on the sound of the magic, and they all close their eyes.

When David opens his, he’s a bear, and so is Tuukka.

But Malcolm isn’t.

Malcolm looks between the two of them with wide eyes. There’s surprise, awe; but the foremost smell is a scorched one of embarrassment and misery, dropping and deepening. David whines a low distressed rumble — he’s made everything _worse_.

Tuukka growls, brief but startling. He rises to his four feet and nudges Malcolm, pushing his wet nose into Malcolm’s ear.

Malcolm makes a face. “Agh, gross.”

Tuukka stares Malcolm down, then nods his big thick-furred head at the bed. Malcolm looks at Tuukka, then the bed, then lets out a long low sigh. “Fine. But I’m putting my pants on. I don’t want bear claws near my dick.” He dresses, then climbs onto the bed in resignation.

Tuukka follows, then aims a laser glare towards David, jerks his head like _get over here NOW_. David hauls himself up as carefully as he can. The bed creaks, but doesn’t actually collapse.

Tuukka puts out a big clawed forepaw and gently, very gently pushes Malcolm down. Malcolm’s wide eyes stare up at the two bears. He smells faintly scared on top of the burnt sad smell.

Every movement precise and deliberate, Tooks settles himself next to the younger goalie. His face looks fierce, as protective as a goalie of his crease; a true mama bear. David swallows a laugh and follows suit on Malcolm’s other side.

Then Tuukka pokes forward his broad muzzle and licks a wet stripe across the side of Malcolm’s face.

Malcolm squawks. “What the.”

Tuukka does it again. David whuffs agreement and leans in to do his part.

He thinks as hard as he can about comfort and happiness and hope. Even though the bear form isn’t letting Malcolm in this far away from Boston, he’s still a Bruin; a little of the magic has to be his. Surely he’ll feel something. He has to.

Pasta closes his eyes and believes.

It takes time. The night drifts forward, quiet and still. Slowly, as gradual as the tide, Malcolm’s scent lightens and evens out, while Tuukka and David nuzzle at his face and neck.

Eventually Malcolm exhales a small laugh, reaches up slowly to rest his hand in the thick fur between David’s ears. “I gotta say, you’re a lot better looking like this,” he tells David. David can smell his smile.

He’s missed Malcolm — even as he got distracted by hockey and bears and everything — maybe more than he even realized.

Suddenly daring, David licks Malcolm’s jaw and ear and just the corner of his mouth.

Malcolm wipes the spit off his face, the thought _really, is this my life now_ clearly filtering through his expression. Still, he doesn’t smell displeased.

Somehow, Tuukka manages to _smell_ like he’s rolling his eyes. He settles in comfortably on his side of the bed, exuding acceptance, and Pasta settles in too, sighing happily when Malcolm shifts his leg to rest against Pasta’s fur.

They stay like that. Malcolm might not admit it later, but: cuddling happens. A lot of it.

“Thanks,” Malcolm murmurs, after the last edge of unhappiness finally peters out and drifts away.

David figures, even though Malcolm will probably go back to Providence tomorrow, he’ll get another chance soon. A fresh start. In the morning, David will wake up in human form, and he and Malcolm will be able to talk, and maybe—

They’ll be all right. There’s magic all around them.

**Author's Note:**

> BEAR CUDDLES ALWAYS
> 
> sorry ducks sorry leafs and everyone else I made lame jokes about in this fic
> 
> sorry malcolm i still love u despite everything *ugly crying*


End file.
